"Are you okay?" Erik asked.
"I'm fine," she unbuckled her seat belt and reached to open her door as soon as the taxi pulled up in front of the hospital.
Erik, realizing she was about to get out without any delay, jumped from his seat and rushed out his door, trying to get to her side so he could open the car door for her, but arrived slightly too late.
She paused in the middle of getting out, surprised by the disappointment that he was clearly feeling.
"I can open my own door, Erik," she said, embarrassed.
"I know," he frowned. "But I wanted to do that for you."
"I-" she was at a loss. "I can- get back in the car, if you want?"
He laughed.
"Christine, you are a wonder," he shook his head. "Enjoy the rest of your day, my dear. I'll see you in the morning, okay? Where do you live?"
She pulled a pen out of her purse and wrote her address on the paper Erik had written their travel plan on.
"I'll see you in the morning then," she told him, and smiled as best she could.
It was easy to mask her feelings with Raoul when she needed to, but she was realizing it was a more difficult task with Erik - the man could read her like a book, and it unsettled her, especially when she had things she'd rather keep from him.
It was nearing the end of her shift that something occurred to her. She tried to brush it off, but in the end, prudence won out. Better safe than sorry, after all.
"Meg," she asked sheepishly. "Can I- can I get off fifteen minutes early?"
Meg narrowed her eyes at her.
"You're lucky we've been friends before I became supervisor," she teased. "Tell me what it's for, though?"
Christine squirmed.
"I need to speak to Mamma Valerius," she said quietly.
"Yeah, that's fine, then," Meg told her. "But can you wait for me after you're done? I want us to go out tonight so we can talk."
"Of course! Thank you so much!"
Christine hugged her and set off for Mamma Valerius's office.
She smiled a little as she approached the door to said office. Colette Valerius was the only woman who practiced medicine under the title of doctor at Rouen General Hospital, and she was particularly close with all of the nurses, caring for them and looking out for them as if they were her daughters - a trait of hers that had earned her the loving nickname of 'Mamma' among many of the younger nurses. She'd been at Rouen General for almost two decades, and she was a formidable woman - but she also had a sweetness that was unparalleled.
Christine knocked on her door, desperately hoping she was there.
"Come in," called a voice.
"Hi, Mamma," Christine said as she entered. "I needed to talk to you about something, if you have a minute."
"I always have a minute for you, Christine," the older woman smiled brightly. "What can I do for you?"
"I was hoping you could write me a prescription..."
"For what?"
Christine's face colored, and mentally chided herself. She cleared her throat.
"Well, you see, I'm getting married," she started.
"Oh, congratulations!"
"Thank you - so I'm getting married, but, ah- well, my husband - my future husband - and I are planning to travel extensively for, um, nearly a year..."
Christine closed her eyes. She was a medical professional, why couldn't she say it?
"And I was thinking - he and I were both thinking, that is, that we don't want any-" she paused, a brief look of minor horror pausing over face.
"Any?" Valerius looked slightly confused.
"Anything that might keep us from continuing to travel... for a year... while we're married," she gave Valerius a knowing look, nodding slowly. "Do you have a prescription that I can take after I get married that might help me?"
"Oh! Say no more, my dear, I know exactly what you mean," she said kindly. "I'll get it written up for you right now."
Christine felt a huge weight come off of her shoulders. She might still want to marry Raoul after Erik, but she wasn't so sure Raoul would marry her if she came back and was carrying Erik's baby. Erik had promised he wouldn't touch her, but at the end of the day, he was a man and she was his wife and it was not outside the realm of possibility that he would change his mind. She trusted that he would keep his word... But she wasn't stupid.
She took the signed paper to the pharmacy on the first floor, hoping her luck would hold out and Lucy would be working today.
Her luck ran out. It was Bennett.
"I need this prescription filled," she avoided his eye as she handed him the paper.
He stared at it a moment, brow furrowing.
"Is this for you?" he asked, his gaze falling to her hand - her bare, ringless hand, now that she'd thrown Raoul's ring back in his face.
She clenched her fist, moving her hand out of his sight.
"Just fill the prescription, Bennett," she grit out.
He left to fill it with a smirk.
He returned several minutes later, that same infuriating smirk still in place, one she wanted to slap off him. He held the paper bag out to her.
"Enjoy," he told her, raising an eyebrow.
She grabbed the bag from him and promptly left the pharmacy, secretly fuming.
Perhaps, she realized, Erik had been right in wanting to buy her a ring, and she was glad she'd agreed to let him do so if for no other reason than to avoid people's presumptions about her while she was traveling with Erik.
Paper bag tucked safely in her purse, she waited for Meg in the locker room.
"Do you want to go out tonight?" Meg asked when arrived.
"Could we maybe just go to my place?" Christine said.
"Yeah, of course."
The women spoke of trivial subjects on their way to Christine's apartment, but once the door was closed, Meg turned serious.
"Okay, what's the deal?" she asked hands on her hips.
Christine had to chuckle - Meg looked ready to fight anyone to protect Christine. She flopped into the couch, and Meg came and joined her.
"So. I'm getting married," Christine started softly.
"To?" Meg prompted.
"Erik," she sighed.
Meg's face went blank.
"Christine, please tell me you know another Erik who's different than the Erik that was at the hospital."
Christine made a little whining noise and covered her face with her hands.
"No, it's him!"
"Christine! Seriously?"
"Yes... Do I think I'm terrible?"
Meg frowned.
"You're never terrible. I just- don't quite get why. What happened to Raoul?"
"Raoul has- well, he- it's very complicated," Christine fiddled with her fingers.
"Honestly," Meg snickered a little. "I kinda thought you'd never marry him, anyway. But Erik? What's the- the appeal?"
"Okay, you're going to think I'm terrible again," Christine took a deep breath. "He's rich. He's very, very rich. He's I'll-never-have-to-work-a-day-in-my-life rich. And he's dying. And he asked. And I- I just thought-"
Meg listened to her.
"You know I love Raoul," Christine insisted. "But he's... not smart."
"That's a way to put it, yes."
"I worry a lot about our future together. But if I had money - if we had money-" she shrugged a little, trying to find the right words.
"If you had enough money, he could be as stupid as he wants?" Meg offered.
Christine pressed her lips together but didn't contradict her.
"Is he really okay with that?"
"That's where it gets weird," she whispered. "I actually broke up with him. I don't know how to feel about it - he said some pretty awful things to me. I'm still kinda mad."
"Okay, but Erik? I mean- he could be a serial killer! He could be about to kidnap you and hold you prisoner or something!"
"Oh, Meg, you're being silly! He's not like that!"
Meg raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, he's not like that to me," she amended with an eye roll.
"It's only six months," she added with a sigh. "He wants to travel, and I'll go with him, and then- I'll never have to worry about money again. Can you imagine that kind of freedom?"
Meg thought about it a long while.
"It's your life, Christine," she said finally. "I don't know exactly what to think about all this, but- if you marry Erik, will that make you happy? Happier than marrying Raoul? Is that what you want out of life?"
Christine frowned as she considered.
"Yes," she said finally. "All I want is freedom. Erik can do that for me. Raoul- Raoul is sweet, but I can't spend my life scrimping and saving and just barely getting by - not anymore. Not after growing up like that."
"I support you," Meg said. "I don't fully get it, but I love you and want you to be happy. If Uggo McBastard does it for you, I say get it, girl!"
"Ugh, Meg, no!" she groaned. "It's not like that!"
Christine stood up suddenly.
"You know what this conversation needs?" she said, heading towards the kitchen. "Wine."
She brought out two glasses and a large bottle of red wine, pouring some out for each of them.
They spent the rest of the evening drinking and discussing her odd new arrangement.
"I gotta give you a key to my 'partment," Christine squinted as she poured the last of the wine into Meg's glass. "If I come back and find out you let my plants die, I'm gonna be pissed."
Meg only giggled, trying to not drop her glass.
"You sure about that key?"
Christine gasped, then pointed a finger at her.
"No boys! Meg - no boys in my apartment!"
"How will you know?" Meg laughed.
"Oh, I'll know!"
When the world got a little too fuzzy around the edges, Christine tucked a blanket around a half-asleep Meg on the couch before retiring to her own bed.
They both awoke somber and sober the next morning.
"Are you really sure about this?" Meg asked once more.
"Yeah. I'm sure."
"You don't even know him, not really... He could be in the mafia or something!"
She chuckled.
"I doubt it."
After a quick breakfast she walked Meg to the door. They were both surprised to see Erik already standing outside her door.
"Erik!" she squeaked, her hand going over her heart.
Meg turned pale, glancing between them.
Erik, too, looked surprised to see Meg there.
"Am I- interrupting something?" he asked, a little concerned.
"No! No, Meg was just leaving," Christine assured him.
"Are you sure?" Meg whispered to her.
Christine nodded, and Meg curtsied awkwardly to Erik, only to, once she was out of his line of sight, mouth the word mafia to Christine before leaving. Christine couldn't help her smile at Meg's absurd theory and how she scurried away from him.
"Do- do you want to come in?"she asked, chuckling.
"What's funny?" he murmured as he stepped inside.
"Oh! Meg just has this funny idea," she shook her head.
"What is it?"
He waited for her to point him to the couch before he sat down.
"She thinks, ah, that you're in the mafia! Isn't that funny?"
But Erik didn't laugh.
"How did she figure that one out?" he asked calmly.
The smile faded from her face.
"What?" she said.
He was joking - surely he was joking. He loved making jokes and often told them with a straight face.
"You're joking," she said.
But he kept looking at her as though he thought she were going to answer him seriously.
"You- you're in the mafia?"
"Were," he corrected her easily, glancing away.
"You were in the mafia?" her brow knit as she repeated the words.
He smiled at how concerned she looked.
"It was a long time ago," he said, his tone kind. "Your little friend is quite the perceptive one, I must say."
She stared at him, wanting to believe he was still joking. What had she gotten herself into?
He chuckled a little at how she looked.
"Come now, Christine, it was ages ago, I haven't been involved in that sort of thing for decades. It's not like anyone is going to show up and try to 'whack' you, you know."
She shook her head as though to clear her thoughts, and began to finish getting ready for the day. She tried to forget the little conversation that had just taken place. He was having a laugh at her, she was certain.
"How long were you on my doorstep?" she called out to him from her bathroom, swiping mascara over her lashes as she stared in the mirror.
"Not very long," he replied, and she huffed at his vague answer.
Her hair pinned back and a minimal amount of makeup on, she reluctantly left the bathroom, ready to go ring shopping with Erik.
"You look beautiful," he breathed when she entered the living room.
"Did you eat this morning?" she asked, changing the subject.
He waved a dismissive hand.
"Of course, earlier."
"What did you eat?"
His face went blank.
"Something... low sodium?"
She stifled a sigh, heading to the kitchen. After a moment she returned to find him anxiously eyeing the tall glass she was holding in her hand.
"We aren't leaving until you drink this," she told him, handing it to him.
"What is it?" he asked, suspicious.
"It's a smoothie, Erik - now drink it."
He took a sip of it and tried to hand it back to her.
"The whole thing," she reminded him.
He narrowed his eyes at her and continued drinking it. She shook her head.
"Really," she said. "You act like I'm trying to poison you. Do you really think I would do that?"
She paused, before adding- "Especially before you change your will to include me?"
He choked on the smoothie, and once she was certain he wasn't in danger of continuing to choke, she smiled.
"I'm glad to see my morbid humor has already rubbed off on you, my dear," he handed her back the now-empty glass. "In a month or two, just imagine how positively morbid we shall be... Think of all the normal people we could scare."
She giggled as she placed the glass in the sink. For as much as her current situation was weighing on her, it felt wonderful to know that she could tease such a powerful man and that he would take it in good humor. The last part of his words, his reference to normal people was lost on her in a way that Raoul's mention of normal people had not been. Of course she and Erik were the same kind of person, and her mind didn't take much notice of his choice of words.
"Don't you feel better now?" she asked as she came out of the kitchen.
He sighed.
"I do suppose a smoothie is a small price to pay to see you smile," he conceded, and she blushed.
They left the apartment together and as they walked to the jewelry store several streets over, she began to feel nervous again.
By the time they entered the store, her shyness was back in full force, and she was incredibly glad that Erik, at least, seemed to become chatty in order to compensate.
He asked the salesman to see the engagement rings, and Christine merely ducked her head and blushed at the man's heart congratulations. If her smile didn't reach her eyes, only Erik noticed.
He pointed out a display case with numerous styles of rings, and Christine busied herself with furrowing her brow at each one as she studied them.
"How did you two meet?"
Christine froze, but Erik piped up right away.
"At the opera," he said, smiling. "She's an opera singer, you see, and I fell in love with her the moment I heard her on stage."
"How romantic!"
"Oh, very. I found her right after she got offstage and asked her to marry me on the spot, but of course she refused!" he laughed. "But she agreed to go out with me, and six months later I asked again and she said yes."
Christine shot him a puzzled glance, uncertain to both how he was coming up with all this and also as to why he'd be rejected in his own fantasy.
"The rest is history," he smiled fondly at her, and she had to look away. It felt too real.
"What a beautiful story," the salesman said.
"Do you see one you'd like to try on?" Erik asked her.
She bit her lip. They were all lovely, in a way, but she couldn't help seeing them all as a sign of impending domestic servitude. How was she supposed to pick something like that?
"The oval one is pretty," she said weakly, and the salesman pulled it out for her to try, sizing it first.
She looked down at it on her hand as it sparkled and winked up at her, and she tried to smile, but she only looked like she was going to cry.
"Sir, could we have a moment?" Erik asked him.
He quickly left the couple alone, and Erik leaned in to her.
"Do you not like it? Do you want to try a different one?" he searched her face. "How about this square one?"
"Square is what Raoul bought me," her voice wavered. "I'm sorry, Erik, I don't know what's come over me-"
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief for her. She took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes.
"You don't like any of them," he said.
It wasn't phrased as a question, but her silence still answered it.
"It's not a wedding ring, Christine," he sighed. "It doesn't mean anything, it's okay. You don't have to pick the prettiest one if none of them are pretty, just- just pick the least hateful one."
She nodded. The ring on her finger had a certain charm, she supposed. It was different enough from what she'd had before that she wouldn't always think of Raoul when she looked at it, but it also wasn't the standard style ring that most wives had.
She felt slightly guilty that it was so big - it was twice the size of the diamond Raoul had gotten for her. In the back of her mind she knew that if Raoul had had Erik's kind of money, he would have bought her a huge diamond, too.
He'd done the best he could for her, and she'd thrown it in his face.
"The oval one," she whispered. "This one."
He waved the salesman over.
"Christine," he whispered gently to her. "Why don't you go look at the bracelets? You might see something that catches your eye."
At his direction she went to look at the bracelets while Erik and the salesman talked price.
After it was paid for and boxed up, he came to look at the bracelets with her.
"Do you see anything?"
She shook her head and shrugged.
"I don't think so. Just the ring."
He thanked the salesman and they left.
"Christine," he asked urgently once they were outside. "Can I-?"
He held up the ringbox and gestured to her hand.
"Oh... If you want," she told him, and held her hand out.
She didn't expect to him drop to one knee in front of her, touching her hand as though it were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. He slipped the ring on her finger, but she hardly noticed it at first, too concerned for his poor knee on the hard sidewalk and what a strain it must be on his joints to kneel like that - she knew he had a nearly constant painful arthritis.
He stayed there a moment longer, looking up at her with all the love in the world, running his thumb over her knuckles, and she wasn't certain if he was still kneeling because he was overcome with emotion or because he knew it was going to be an embarrassing struggle to stand up again.
She glanced down at the ring, unable to bear his love anymore, and her blood ran cold.
This wasn't the ring she had picked in the store.
"Erik-"
This ring was nearly five times bigger than the already huge diamond she'd tried on. He must have sent her away in the store so that he could get the salesman to switch it to a bigger diamond in the same style.
"Erik!"
Blood was pounding in her head. What had he done?
He patted her hand and scrambled to stand up.
"It's all right, my dear - it didn't even put a dent in your inheritance," he assured her.
"It's- it's too much!"
She was embarrassed to wear it. She glanced around the street, worried people were staring.
"You truly don't like it?" his face fell a little.
She squirmed, looking at it again.
"It's enormous," she whined. "Why did you do that?"
"Christine I don't understand?"
She looked up at him, despairing.
"This is a ring a movie star would wear, or a princess - I don't need something like this!"
He tilted his head. Under her protests was the implication that she didn't deserve a ring like that, and he heard it.
"No," he agreed. "You don't need a ring like that. But that doesn't mean you can't have a ring like that. Why shouldn't you have a ring fit for a princess?"
"I'm not a princess," she looked away again.
He smiled but didn't say the words she almost feared he would, though from the corner of her eye she could tell he was thinking them - she was a princess, to him.
"That's no matter, my dear," he said instead. "It's the ring I wanted to buy you, the ring I think you deserve... the ring I want to see on your finger every day. Surely it can't be as bad as all that?"
She looked at it again. It really was a very beautiful ring. She bit her lip.
"Thank you, Erik," she breathed.
They walked down the sidewalk together, back towards her apartment.
"I know I've imposed horribly on you, Christine," he said quietly. "I know that this is- distressing to you, as well. I certainly don't mean any ill by it, but I'm afraid I must make yet another request of you."
"Oh?"
"I assure you just as strongly as ever that this is a mere business arrangement, and when I ask this please don't assume any hidden meaning behind my words, but Christine-"
He stopped walking, looking her up and down.
"At our wedding tomorrow, would you-" he lowered his already low voice, a tinge of desperation creeping in around the edges. "Would you object very much to wearing white?"
She pressed her lips together. It was hard not to read into it when he was blushing so hard that his neck had turned red too.
"I suppose I could," was all she would say.
He took it as answer enough, and they continued to her apartment.
She invited him in again, making him rest on the couch and while she got him a glass of water.
She joined him on the couch and they discussed the rest of their plans.
"I'll tell the hospital on Monday," she said quietly. "I'll let you know how quickly I can get off."
"I'll make the travel arrangements once I know."
"Okay. I'll go shopping as soon as I get my next day off, whenever that is," she fidgeted with her new ring.
"That reminds me-" he reached into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a credit card and handing it to her.
"Thanks," she muttered, still not certain how she felt about buying apparently an entire new wardrobe on her husband's credit card.
She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Do you-" she hesitated and cleared her throat. "Do you want to, ah, approve the purchases?"
His eyes held a brief, greedy glint. Christine felt sweaty thinking about it - taking Erik with her to shop for clothing that he might want her to model for him first.
"No," he said at last. "That's okay. You pick what you like best. I'm not so concerned with how you look as making certain your outfits are appropriate for the climates we're visiting. Here, I have a list-"
He fished in his jacket pocket and handed her a long list.
She read through it silently. It had very many suggestions, ranging from both long and short sleeved blouses to various types of pants and skirts. Towards the end of the list it began to detail accessories, such as a sun hat and warm winter hat and a bathing suit and wool socks. And there, at the bottom of the list, in hastily scrawled letters, was the word unmentionables.
Her face turned red.
"Erik," she said evenly. "They are no longer unmentionables if you mention them."
Erik became flustered.
"I didn't mean anything by it!" he insisted. "I just didn't want you to forget!"
"Forget?"
"Well they're important articles of clothing, Christine! I couldn't just leave them off the list!"
"I'm not going to forget underwear, Erik - I've been dressing myself for a very long time, and I rarely forget," she said dryly.
Erik looked like he wanted to die from embarrassment.
"It's not like I wanted to see them!" he tried to defend himself but only got more embarrassed.
Absurdity won out and Christine started laughing.
Erik got up and began to pace, running his hands through his hair.
"It's not like that! It's not! It's not!"
"Erik!" she laughed. "Erik, please, calm down! It's not good to get that worked up!"
Erik sighed wearily and sank onto the couch, sitting as far away from her possible and not daring to look at her.
"It's all right," she snickered, covering her mouth with her hands. "Are you okay?"
"I will never be okay again," he declared loudly, still unable to meet her eye.
It renewed her giggles, even though she knew it was terrible of her. The man could scarcely say the word underwear without blushing beet red, and she found it adorable.
"What else are you doing today?" she asked once she'd managed to control her laugh.
"Paperwork," he sighed. "I have a lot to- well, to get in order."
She grew a little more serious.
"Oh. Well... I suppose I can start clothes shopping, then. What about tomorrow?"
"I'll meet you at the courthouse, I think?"
"Okay. That works. And- after?"
He was quiet a long moment.
"Could we have lunch? Together? Or did you have other plans?"
"I don't have any other plans."
"Okay. I'll meet you there, then."
He took his leave of her for the day, and she decided to set out on her shopping trip, Erik's embarrassing - yet very thorough - list in hand.
She still wasn't certain how she felt about the whole situation, but as she shopped and tried on outfit after outfit, she began to feel as though she now had the chance to reinvent herself. She couldn't help but glance at the price of each piece, even though she knew Erik didn't care. It was a hard habit to break, after a lifetime of it being a necessity. She still felt a heavy cloud of guilt settle on her each time as she swiped the credit card to pay, her heart beating just a little faster.
It was sunset when she was finally finished shopping. She rode in a taxi back to her apartment, surrounded by bags and boxes containing her new life. The sky was turning purple and cobalt, and she looked wistfully out the dirty window at it, wondering if Erik had finished straightening out his papers and affairs.
At her bedside that night, she held her hand under her little nightstand lamp and examined the giant diamond.
She'd never seen anything sparkle so brilliantly.
"Shit," she muttered.
Maybe she'd get used to wearing it one day. It was heavy. She could only imagine what it would be like to punch a man while wearing it. She'd probably break her own finger, but the stone would leave quite a dent in him, too.
She wanted to wear it while she was sleeping, just for the glamour of such an act, but common sense won out and she left it next to her alarm clock.
She woke up the next morning and had a single moment of peace before she remembered it was her wedding day and an unnamed emotion seized her around the heart.
She put on a little extra makeup, thinking that perhaps Erik might appreciate it if she did so, but she skipped any sort of lip color. She dressed in her new white dress that she'd bought yesterday, her wedding dress. With clean lines and an understated style, it could be taken by almost anyone else as just a regular dress - anyone except herself and Erik, who both knew better.
The ceremony was at noon, but she felt too antsy with her extra time at the apartment. She slipped on her new white kitten heeled shoes before stepping out the door. Maybe she would go see Erik and talk to him for a bit, just to distract her mind.
But as she was locking her door and began to leave the building, she ran into Raoul. They both stood there a long moment, too surprised for words.
He looked hopeful, and repentant. In his hands he was holding his engagement ring - her engagement ring, the one he'd given her. His eyes fell to her left hand and they widened in shock to see the new, much larger ring there. He hung his head, putting the other ring in his pocket.
"Raoul," she frowned, willing herself not to cry and cause her makeup to run. "What are you doing here?"
"I don't know, now," he said sadly.
She stepped closer to him.
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked.
"I'm- well, I'm marrying Erik today," she told him with regret.
"Oh," he said, voice full of sorrow. "Christine... You're wearing white for him..."
"It's just a business deal, Raoul," she protested feebly. "I already told you, he and I aren't going to- it's not going to be like that."
He sniffled and wiped his arm across his nose.
It was swiftly growing awkward, but she didn't know what to say or do.
"I'm sorry," he tried. "I really am..."
"I know," she said weakly. "I am too."
"I don't understand," his voice wavered. "Why? What- what did I do? I thought- I thought everything was fine, and then you- you- why?"
"Oh, Raoul-"
"I tried my best, Christine, please tell me where I went wrong?"
Tears were flowing down his face now, and she was struck through with pity. Her poor Raoul. His anger was gone, only a deep sadness in its place, and somehow Christine found this even harder to bear.
How could she have done this to him?
"It's not your fault," she told him, blinking hard. "It's not your fault I'm marrying him, I just- I just-"
"When did you stop loving me?"
Spoken at any other time in any other tone, it would have sounded petulant and demanding, something to guilt trip her, but now it only sounded like the desperate plea of a broken man.
"I still love you," she choked. "Raoul, I still love you."
This wasn't a man who wanted to stifle her and clip her wings, at least not purposely. This was the man who had cooked for her when she was too exhausted to cook for herself, the man who had spent endless hours at the hospital with her while her father went through his illness, the man who had been her refuge and support for nearly half of her life.
And she'd thrown her ring at him after one fight, tossed him aside for an endless credit card and bank account. She felt heartless, but she knew she couldn't be because her heart was breaking right now.
"Were you going to ask me to marry you?" she sniffled.
"Yeah," he shoved his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. "But I guess you wouldn't want me to..."
"No, I do - I do. It's just- it's complicated."
"But you're-" he nodded towards her giant ring, and she laughed through her tears.
"Well that didn't stop him, did it?"
"He's dying, right?"
"He is," she said sadly. "Six months."
He took a deep breath.
"I promise you, Raoul," she said, wiping at her tears. "I love you, and I will marry you when Erik- when it's all over. I'm so, so sorry."
"Six months?" he asked.
"Six months," she nodded and sniffed. "We can plan our wedding after that. We can get married anywhere we want. Price won't matter. Just you and me, that'll be all that matters."
He pulled her close and hugged her tightly.
"I'm going to miss you," he choked out.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that would stem the flow of tears.
"I won't sleep with him," she whispered. "I promise. When I get back - it'll be like nothing ever happened. This marriage to him means nothing to me."
"I trust you," he breathed, and Christine thought his trust was the most precious thing in the world, and she vowed to guard it fiercely.
"I love you," she whispered.
"You're getting married today?"
"Yeah. At noon. At the courthouse."
"Do you want me to come?"
"No," she shook her head. "No, I don't think so. But we'll keep in touch, okay?"
"Okay."
"I want us to be able to talk more, about more. We need to be able to communicate openly and honestly without getting mad at each other. I want that for us, don't you?"
"I do want that, Lotte."
She brushed her thumb across his cheek wiping his tears away.
"Lotte..."
"Yeah?"
He sniffled.
"How much money does he have, again?"
She laughed even as she started to tear up again.
"A lot, Raoul. A lot."
He hugged her.
"We'll be okay, won't we?" he whispered.
"We'll be okay," she agreed.
They parted with sweet words and a few more tears, and after he was gone she went back in her apartment to freshen her makeup. Once she looked cleaned up, she went to Erik's. She'd already decided not to tell him about Raoul, not yet at least.
Erik took a while to open the door, as she expected. He was already dressed in an incredibly fancy tuxedo, and he looked surprised to see her there.
"It's bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding," he breathed.
She looked down at her feet.
"I'm not a bride," she reminded him.
"Oh. You're early."
"Just a bit," she looked at her watch.
"Should we go early?"
"We might as well, I suppose. I must admit," he chuckled sheepishly. "I've been ready for at least an hour now."
They took their time walking to the courthouse, remarking on the weather and the flowers they passed.
Her anxiety grew as they entered the courthouse. It felt almost surreal to stand there in front of the the judge and hear their vows read to them. This couldn't really be happening, could it?
Erik slid a plain golden ring on her finger next to her diamond ring, and she took his hand and slid a similar gold ring on his long bony finger.
Her breath hitched when they were told to kiss to seal the union. They hadn't discussed this part at all. He was going to kiss her. He was going to kiss her and she'd feel his lips against her own, invading her in a way that only Raoul had ever done before. Her heart felt like it was in her throat.
But Erik merely took both of her hands in his, and gently, reverently, brought her hands up before bowing his head slightly and brushed his lips against her knuckles just once.
Inexplicably, she felt like she wanted to cry again.
He squeezed her hands and beamed at her as though he was the happiest man in existence. She managed a small smile for his sake.
And just like that, for better or worse, she was Christine Carrière.